


Duty Bound

by rock_my_awkwardly_shaped_boat (HoWeLLing)



Series: I'll Burn That Bridge When I Get To It [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with no happy ending, Cheating, F/F, M/M, Skyrim Kink Meme, Unhappy marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoWeLLing/pseuds/rock_my_awkwardly_shaped_boat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to an older prompt from the Skyrim Kink Meme that I just recently stumbled across (and shocked that nobody filled because it is a serious gem).</p><p>Basically, Argis marries the Dovahkiin because he feels obligated to serve his Thane in every way possible, but not out of any real love or affection. The Dovahkiin is... not aware of this.</p><p>Beware, here there be (attempted) angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty Bound

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the original prompt:
> 
> Housecarls are sworn into service to their Thanes, right? Well, I married Argis and we moved to Solitude (to get away from those creepy mannequins that kept stalking us T_T ), but... he never called me love, or dear or EVER behaved like a spouse. Oh, he opened a shop and he´d cook something for me if I ask, but he still behaves as if he was trying to ignore our marriage.
> 
> That got me thinking:  
> What if he didn´t want to marry the DB, only was too duty-conscious to refuse what might have been practically an order from his Thane. The catch? The thane doesn´t know that their spouse doesn´t love them. Thane!DB really thinks they were married of their own free will, until... well, I´ll leave that up to you.
> 
> My DB realized the emptiness of their marriage when he walked into Proudspire Manor and found Argis and Jordis standing uncomfortably close and realized they were a perfect family... without him. A strong man, his beautiful wife and two happy kids, all together in a beautiful home. There´s no place left for the DB, who only "visits" their own house from time to time.
> 
> I leave up to you how this plays out - maybe the Housecarl (any you´d like to use) never betrays his spouse, the DB. Maybe they do. I want to see the DB realize their spouse doesn´t love them and be really depressed about it. "Why did you marry me if you didn´t love me?" "I am sworn into your service, my Thane." I´d like to see a really good, kind-hearted DB who really had no idea that their beloved doesn´t return their feelings. How do they deal with the revelation?
> 
> Squicks: death, gore, bloodplay, bathroom play, suicide, non-con,... anything too nasty. That´s not what I´m looking for in this fic.  
> Please try to avoid femslash :)
> 
>  
> 
> For some reason or other, this very angst-ridden prompt stuck to my mind like super-fuckin'-glue, so I ended up busting this whole thing out within, roughly, 3 hours total, with a break in between where I went to work, thought constantly about this fic, and did not get all that much work done.
> 
> Meh, could be worse, I suppose.
> 
> That being said, enjoy!

“Will you marry me?” Eified blurts, one day, staring up at his housecarl with wide red eyes and a happy, lopsided grin.

The Dunmer is not overtly familiar with Nord customs, but he’s been wearing an Amulet of Mara for weeks, now, and has been showering gifts onto his companion with reckless abandon. Argis looks, well, surprised, at the very least. Surprised and something Eified doesn’t recognize.

“Marriage?” The large Nord rumbles.

Eified tries to stop himself from bouncing eagerly on the balls of his feet. “Yes. I- I’m not completely sure how it’s supposed to happen. In Skyrim, I mean. Nords fall in love so fast,” and Eified pauses, a dark blush just barely visible on his ashen skin. “But, I guess sometimes so do mer.”

Argis’ expression is slowly morphing into understanding, mouth falling open slightly with surprise. “Ah,” he says, and Eified’s heart catches in his throat.

“Ah?” The mer chokes out, frightened and nervous and mind running over anything he might have done wrong.

 But then Argis smiles, his usual flash of teeth that makes Eified’s insides squirm in interesting ways. “I would be honored to marry you, my Thane.”

Eified is too happy to hear the faintest note of resignation tainting the words.

He’ll regret that, later.

oOo

The actual wedding is a quick, impersonal affair that Eified will have trouble remembering. There was not, in all honesty, anything all that memorable about it, but it still makes the Dunmer happy anyways. When they make it back to Markarth, the Dovahkiin is quick to pack up his temporary home – really, he’d only stayed to better woo Argis – and move his new spouse into his preferred place of residence; Breezehome.

Argis goes along without complaint, and seems to rather enjoy the trip. Eified spends most of it babbling incessantly about random topics – which is, unfortunately, the norm – but somehow the short journey seems so much better than usual. Because it’s not just Eified trekking through the wilderness with a housecarl dutifully on his heels, but rather him trekking towards home with his husband at his side. It makes all the difference.

“You’re going to love Whiterun,” the mer says as they finally crest the top of a small hill and the city becomes visible on the horizon.

Argis hums agreeably, his one good eye examining the faraway outline.

Eified can’t help but say, “It’s not quite so… secure, I suppose, but the people are nicer.”

And that does make Argis chuckle, and Eified is momentarily enraptured as the Nord’s tattoo dances on his cheek.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, my Thane,” Argis murmurs.

But the mer frowns, shaking his head. “My name, call me Eified.”

His husband hesitates, but then, “Eified,” he relents with a tip of the head.

It’s just a tad too close to a bow for Eified’s comfort.

oOo

Argis settles in easily, despite the house being a little crowded with three – Lydia still lives there, after all – which makes Eified glow with joy, and they quickly fall into a comfortable routine. The Dovahkiin has duties that always require his attention, but Argis is happy to stay at home. He even opens a small shop in town.

Nothing makes Eified happier than coming home from a long, tiring quest to find dinner waiting for him on the table and Argis greeting him with a small smile. “Welcome back,” he says, like always, and is quick to take Eified’s pack and help the mer strip from his heavy leathers.

“It’s good to be back,” Eified groans, and tilts his head back in a silent request.

Argis dutifully plants a soft kiss on his lips, then herds his husband towards the table. “How was everything?” He asks.

Collapsing onto the bench, Eified immediately begins to stuff his mouth with meat and bread, pausing between bites to speak. “Well, nothing went as planned, of course, and for some reason I kept running into necromancers everywhere I went. Plus, a dragon managed to surprise me when it dropped right out of damn the sky.”

Argis snorts, settling in the seat across the table, and Eified chuckles himself. “So, yeah, it was pretty normal. How was everything here?”

His husband shrugs, and the motion accentuates the strong curve of his neck, bared because the Nord has, uncommonly, tied his hair back. Eified manages to drag his attention back to the conversation just in time. “Same,” Argis admits. “But I manage to keep myself entertained.”

They fall into a strange silence as Argis focuses on cleaning Eified’s gear, mending the leather with the ease of long practice. For some reason, the action niggles strangely at the back of Eified’s mind. “Leave it,” the mer huffs, snatching the material from his husband’s hands to dump it unceremoniously on the floor. “Lydia will take care of it later.”

For a moment Argis looks like he might protest, but then he nods, once, and settles more comfortably in his seat. Eified hurries to finish his dinner while Argis nibbles quietly on a piece of bread.

“Did you already eat?” The mer wonders aloud.

Argis smiles apologetically. “Aye, my apologies. Didn’t know what time you’d make it home.”

Eified waves it off with a laugh. “No, no, that’s fine. Just making sure.” He shovels the last bit into his mouth and then stands, casting a meaningful look over his shoulder before sauntering up the stairs.

He hears what he thinks is a sigh, but then Argis is right on his heels, following him up to their room, and Eified puts it out of his mind.

oOo

Months go by in a happy blur. Eified is not home as often as he’d like, but Argis is always there to greet him with food and a smile. His husband has gotten into the habit of tying his hair back, and Eified rather likes the look. It doesn’t seem in the least bit strange until one day he and Lydia are traveling through the ass-crack of the Throat of the World – that place right at the base where the mountain’s dark shadow seems to stretch forever – on their way home.

Eified is meandering along in a happy daze, imagining the warm welcome waiting for him at home, when a rather handsome hunter wanders right across their path. Eified’s hand immediately drops to his sword, but the Nord is as surprised to see them, as they are too see him. It’s Lydia who steps forward to keep the peace.

“Greetings, brother,” she offers with a pleasant nod.

The hunter visibly relaxes, though his eyes still dart wearily in Eified’s direction. A Stormcloak supporter, no doubt.

“’evening,” he rumbles.

Eified rolls his eyes. “We mean no harm,” he snaps.

The Nord doesn’t seem completely convinced, but he nods before quickly disappearing into the tree line. Lydia sighs. “Shame, he was rather handsome.”

They share a grin. “You think?” Eified asks.

The housecarl shrugs. “I might be biased. I’m rather fond of men who tie their hair back.”

Eified laughs, and that is that, and the duo continue on their merry way. Lydia’s remark jumps back to the forefront of his mind when they get home and Eified can’t help but notice that Argis has, again, tied his hair back.

It’s such a silly, stupid thought that Eified immediately dismisses it, because it’s _him_ that Argis smiles at, and _him_ that Argis greets with a kiss.

... Though there is certainly enough food for the _three_ of them.

oOo

Eified decides, a strange, unusual tension lurking in the back of his mind, to shirk his duties for a short while and stay home. Argis is certainly surprised by his sudden change of heart – Eified is usually so responsible – but accepts his husbands presence with open arms.

They’re having breakfast, a simple meal of warm bread and cheese that Eified may or may not still think is the best food he’s ever eaten – he can be mushy like that – when the mer asks, “I don’t suppose we can stay in bed all day?”

Argis freezes, a piece of cheese halfway to his mouth, and stares at Eified with something like surprise and something else – that unidentifiable emotion from before – flashing through his eyes.

“Is that what you want to do?” The Nord finally says, quickly composing himself, but Eified is already frowning.

“I- well, only if you want to, too,” he admits, a little surprised by the hurt in his own voice.

Argis obviously hears it too, because his eyes widen and he looks almost… horrified. “I want to,” he agrees, firm and in command, those strangely disconcerting emotions from before nowhere to be found.

Eified hesitates. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Argis says, almost before Eified is finished asking, and promptly stands, grabbing the Dunmer by one hand and leading him up the stairs and too their bed.

It’s the first time that Argis has ever really instigated their love-making, and that alone, coupled with the strange fear that seems to be a constant shadow lurking in the back of Eified’s mind, taints the day with a bitterness Eified is afraid to truly think about.

oOo

On the second day of his impromptu vacation, Eified knows he can’t keep Argis from work for another day, despite the Nord’s strange willingness to shirk his own duties, and instead shoos the man out of the house.

Eified takes a moment to examine his home, a little cramped, yes, and a little messy, to be expected with three warriors and all their gear cohabitating, but warm and pleasant and homey nonetheless. It makes Eified smile and for the first time in weeks, that niggle of doubt in the back of his thoughts falls silent.

It’s a crippling relief.

Happier than he’s really been in what feels like years, Eified sets about tidying his home. For him, that mostly entails removing stuff from the floor and relocating them in a slightly less cluttered spot, wherein hopefully his husband or Lydia will then correctly organize the mess at a later date.

The work is satisfying, if a tad dull, and soon enough Eified is driven to dress in a plain shirt and breeches, pull on his favorite pair of furred boots, and embark out into Whiterun. He tries to tell himself he’s not just going to visit Argis, but the warmth that blooms in his chest just thinking about the Nord makes him a liar. Chuckling faintly to himself, he saunters along at a happy pace, whistling a jaunty tune.

His stomach rumbles faintly, gurgling reproachfully at him, so Eified obediently veers from his initial path and heads towards Carlotta’s stand. The Imperial women is, as usual, peddling her wears to any that pass within hearing range, though she abruptly focuses her attention on Eified as he gets closer. “Well looks who come to darken my threshold,” she says, but her tone is friendly and her smile is gentle.

Ever since Eified helped her out with Mikael, that drunken bard who couldn’t seem to take a hint, Carlotta had warmed up to the mer considerably.

“Well I find myself a bit peckish this morning,” Eified explains, voice all honey and roses, “and what better place to go then your wonderful stand?”

Carlotta throws her head back and laughs. Eified can admit that she’s rather stunning, and had he been interested in women he might have given courting her a shot. As it is, his tastes lean more towards broad shoulders and hairy chests and, yes, cock. Good thing, then, that Argis has all three in spades.

“Oh, stop it, you,” she snaps playfully, and then she reaches down to pull out a small box from behind her stand.

Eified’s stomach immediately roars like a Sabre Cat. He recognizes the wooden box as the one where Carlotta keeps her particularly delicious treats. The Imperial laughs again, and plucks a couple green apples from the box. “You’re favorite,” she holds them out.

Grinning from ear to ear, Eified eagerly accepts the fruit. “See? I knew all my flattery would pay off.”

Before Carlotta can answer, no doubt with an appropriately witty remark, a young voice rings across the square. “Mama! Mama!” Mila sings as she bounds towards them, Ysolda doggedly on her heels.

It still surprised Eified to this day that the aspiring merchant and the very popular fruit seller had ended up married. Though maybe it shouldn’t have, considering how very much Carlotta seemed to hate men and how very much Ysolda seemed to admire a successful business owner. Nonetheless, whatever the reason, the two women are clearly happy together.

Amused, Eified patiently munches on one of his apples as the trio greet each other, Mila happily chattering at a dizzying speed, and Carlotta greeting her wife with a short kiss that still manages to ooze tenderness and love. Eified pauses, chewing slowly as he watches the two women interact.

“Hello, love,” Carlotta murmurs quietly, though Eified’s sharp mer ears have no problem picking it up.

Ysolda’s smile is almost too sweet, her eyes glittering with joy. “Hello, dear,” she says back, just as quiet.

Then as one they turn their attention to their daughter, who remained pleasantly oblivious to their distraction, or rather, was quite used to the short ritual. Because that’s clearly what it is, easy to tell in the adoring gazes and oh-so-happy smiles.

Carlotta suddenly remembers her customer, whirling to face Eified with a sheepish grin. “Oh,” she chuckles, embarrassed. “My apologies, Dragonborn.”

Eified awkwardly clears the sudden weight lodged in his throat. “Not at all,” he manages. “It’s quite all right.”

He rifles quickly through the pouch at his side, snatching out a handful of coins – too much but he doesn’t care – and lays them on the stand. “I’ll be off,” he says with forced cheer.

The women don’t notice his distraction and wave merrily as he trots away.

Eified doesn’t visit Argis.

oOo

It takes a few more months of denial and regret and pain and… and… Eified supposes he should call it naivety. Maybe stupidity. It was only, he loved Argis so much, had showered him with affection and gifts and attention.

And, dammit, if Argis didn’t feel that way about him, the Nord should have said something!

Would have said something, Eified is almost sure, except as time passes he watches the way his husband and Lydia – Lydia his housecarl, his friend, a confidant, and _Divines_ is this some kind of punishment? – interact. Watches how they brush against each other more than is strictly necessary.

Or how they share secret, conspiratorial grins.

Or how Argis just seems so much _happier_ when Lydia is around.

It’s something that Eified only recently notices, when his suspicion forces him to watch every move Argis makes with a rabid intensity. And it only makes everything _worse_.

Then Eified decides, because he apparently hates himself more than he’d realized, that he has to know for sure.

That’s what makes him come home early from a quest.

That’s what makes him sneak into his own house in the dark of the night.

By some Divine’s intervention, the house is blessedly silent. Eified isn’t sure what he would do if… if… fuck, he can’t even think it. Instead, he slithers up the steps and to his room, cracking the door open without a sound and peeking inside.

The bed is empty.

Eified wants to scream.

Wants to shout and cry and throw magic around like a child, but he forces himself to turn away and walk back to Lydia’s door. Bile is rising like a tidal wave in the back of his throat, but he keeps it down through pure force of will and opens the door, silent as a ghost.

And there is his husband, pale limbs entangled tightly with Lydia’s, blond hair an ethereal wave of silk in the moonlight. Eified wonders what is worse: that his husband is cheating on him with his most trusted companion, or that he still finds the man appealing even then.

He slowly closes the door, then wanders down the steps in a daze. When Eified reaches the bottom, he takes in his home, a little cramped, yes, and a little messy, to be expected, and jolts in surprise as hot, angry tears start streaming down his face.

His sobs are silent as he settles into his usual spot at the table, facing the stairs, and waits.

It seems like only minutes, though in reality its hours, before the sound of movement begins to echo down. He hears their voices, words muffled and indistinct, but tenderness clear in every lilting syllable. It almost makes him cry again, but Eified is feeling strange. Disjointed and empty.

Anger is what keeps him strong when the couple scamper playfully down the stairs, only to freeze in shock at the sight of him. Eified wonders what he must look like, wild and furious and so desperately _betrayed_ , but he doesn’t really want to know.

The mer watches as guilt washes across their faces like a physical blow, and Lydia has the nerve to step forward, hands held out in a placating manner. “My Thane-”

“Get out,” Eified snaps, eyeing Lydia like she’s a piece of shit stuck to his boot.

Guilty as he is, Argis perks with indignation and even Lydia looks like she might protest. Eified knows why; it’s still early, the sun has barely pierced the horizon, and Skyrim is on the verge of winter. Nord or no, dressed as she is in only a ratty loose pair of breeches and a shirt that is far too big to be hers, Lydia is in no condition to be outside.

For the first time in his life, Eified can’t find an ounce of compassion within himself. “Get out,” he snarls, voice roiling with an ancient, inhuman force that makes Lydia pale with fright.

She’s out the door so fast she almost leaves a cloud of dust in her wake.

Argis is a little pale himself, brows furrowed into a small canyon that, as usual, sends a little pang of fondness through Eified’s heart. And **fuck** that makes the mer hate himself all the more.

“Did you ever love me?” Eified demands.

He will _not_ – _cannot_ – acknowledge how desperate he sounds.

Argis hesitates, and that is answer enough.

“Why did you marry me if you didn’t _love_ me?” Eified doesn’t realize he’s yelling until the house quakes ominously all around them.

His thu’um is starting to flare out of control, leaking into his voice in a way it never has before; and Eified remembers, once, when he’d been told that for Dovah the thu’um comes as easily as breathing, and that an argument and a fight were one and the same. With that in mind, he quickly reels back the surge of power fighting to tear its way out of his throat. If only so his home doesn’t start to fall apart around his ears, because wouldn’t that be just what he needed.

The Nord straightens his back, squares his shoulders, and looks Eified right in the eyes. “I am sworn into your service, my Thane.”

Eified sputters. “Marriage isn’t a _service_! It’s supposed to be about love and, and… for fuck’s sake do you even like me?” The mer knows he’s crying again, but he can’t stop the tears as they gush from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks and dripping from his chin onto his armor.

It’s all Eified can do to focus on that, instead of the very real sensation of his heart trying to rend itself in two.

“Eified,” Argis murmurs, voice gentle and soothing in a way that would have turned Eified to goo only a few hours before.

Now, it fuels his rage like kindle on a fire. “Don’t you _dare_ ,” the mer hisses. “Don’t try to coddle me. I’m decades older than you’ll ever be, but somehow I got swept away in the stupid, Nord romanticism. And you _let_ me.”

Argis flinches. _Good_ , Eified thinks, but even then a part of him wants to drop at Argis’ feet and plead forgiveness. Like _he_ is the one in the wrong. Shit, how is Eified supposed to stay mad when all he can really feel, under the anger and indignation, is devastated?

And that’s it, as soon as he acknowledges the heavy ball in his chest for what it is, all the fight flows out of him in a rush. Eified is lucky he is already sitting or he would have dropped straight to his knees. He curls in on himself, sobbing loud and broken, breath hitching in desperate little gasps, but can’t stop crying.

Argis makes to move forward, maybe to offer comfort or support, but Eified snarls warningly. Because if he lets Argis touch him, lets the Nord run one of his big hands through his blood-red hair, then Eified will well and truly shatter.

They stay like that for a few moments, Eified breaking down in his own living room while Argis watches on in helpless panic. Finally, the Nord turns, walks slowly up the stairs, backs a bag with his – and Lydia’s, because he doubts Eified will want either of them around for… well, ever again – and then ever so carefully descends back into the living room, and towards the front door.

He pauses, turning back to do what he doesn’t know, but Eified is glaring at him with hateful, broken eyes, so Argis promptly turns around and leaves. The door closes with a faint, final, click.

And Eified screams.

He screams and cries and throws anything he can get his hands on, casting out spells with equal abandon, until the home he once loved ever so dearly is unrecognizable. A tattered, broken shell of its former glory.

Eified, finally, drops to the ground in a panting, exhausted heap, throws his head back, and _roars_ with such pain and rage the whole of Whiterun quivers.

**Author's Note:**

> Boom.
> 
> There you go. 
> 
> (hopefully) Angst. 
> 
> I don't have any sort of beta, and none of the patience required, to proofread this, so any mistakes are mine. Feel free to point them out and I'll, eventually, get around to fixing them.
> 
> This is the first angst-y thing I have ever written, so I’m not so sure about it… but *shrugs* oh well, I guess. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
